TUMBLE! RUMBLE!
Struck mid-air by Yang Mutong's palm, Pan Hexuan flew back four or five meters. He then tumbled another seven or eight meters across the soft mat like a rubber ball before finally coming to a stop. His clothes were a mess, and he looked utterly wretched.
BLECH!
He felt a coppery sweetness in his chest as a trickle of bright red blood flowed from the corner of his mouth. He tried to struggle to his feet but found his entire body was limp. His bones felt rattled, and he couldn't muster any strength. He collapsed back onto the ground.
"I concede."
Left with no other choice, Pan Hexuan could only raise his hand in surrender.
He never would have imagined that the ridiculously beautiful young woman across from him was a master of Fist Intent Soul Capturing, and one with such terrifying strength at that.
It was pointless to continue fighting. He had no chance of victory.
